


Pyrexia

by faierius



Series: Burning Flowers [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Flashback, Fluff, Gladnis, Illness, M/M, Sick Character, Young Ignis, Young Noctis, clarus cameo, drautos cameo, guest starring regis and clarus, nyx cameo, regis cameo, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-23 05:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faierius/pseuds/faierius
Summary: Directly follows Body Heat.After stress, spells, and confessions, Ignis' immune system can't take anymore. He doesn't get sick often, but when he does, it's not very nice.





	1. Chapter 1

Noctis thought his jaw might dislocate as he yawned wide and rubbed his eyes. Stumbling from the tent, he didn't open them until the light from the sun turned the view from behind his lids pink.

“Mornin', Noct.”

“Morning.” Yawning again, Noctis cracked his eyes open, looking at the stony ground to avoid burning out his retinas from the bright morning sun. Frowning, he raised his head when he received no other salutations.

“You the only one up?” he asked Prompto, who sat curled in one of the camp chairs, legs crossed and hands in his lap, tapping away on his phone.

“Yeah, I had to pee. It's weird being the first one up. Don't know how Iggy does it.”

“He likes the quiet. What time is it, anyway?” Squinting up at the sky, Noctis noted the sun was higher than it ought to be.

“Uhh...nearly ten thirty.”

“Seriously?”

“Unless my phone bugged out.” Prompto raised his blue eyes, brows drawn together. “Didn't know it was so late.”

A tiny pebble of panic dropped in Noct's gut, threatening to grow much larger if he didn't control himself. “They _never_ sleep this late,” he said.

“Well, it was a really late night. Plus Iggy wasn't one hundred percent when he finally did get to sleep. Maybe they're just catching up on their Z's?”

Noctis glanced over his shoulder at the tent. “When have they ever slept in? Even when we finally crash right before dawn, they _never_ oversleep.”

Prompto frowned, putting his phone away. “Good point.”

Scowling deeply, Noctis turned back to the tent and ducked inside. His eyes first fell on Gladio, fast asleep on his back, mouth hanging open and snoring. Next to him, Ignis was curled in a tight ball, head on Gladio's bicep, entire body quaking violently.

“Shit!” Mouth set in a thin line, Noctis kicked the sole of Gladio's foot and knelt next to Ignis.

Snorting awake, Gladio grumbled, eyes fluttering open. “Huh?”

Brow creased with a dark glower for Gladio and concern for Ignis, Noct pressed his hand to the man's forehead. His skin was too hot. It was dry, too, which Ignis taught him was not a good sign when someone had a fever.

“Hey, is every—oh. Fever?” Prompto knelt just inside the tent. He bit his lip, eyes flicking between Ignis and Noctis.

“Yeah, he's sick. Gladio let him get sick.”

Fully awake and able to process what was happening, Gladio extracted himself from Ignis and sat up. “What? How the _hell_ did _I_ let him get sick?”

“First he got caught in the rain, then he was frozen, then you let him sleep basically naked,” Noctis growled, smoothing the hair off Ignis' forehead.

“Only the last one is my fault. I don't have any control over his immune system,” replied Gladio, reaching down to pull the blanket up to the shivering man's shoulders. “Iggy never gets sick, so it's not like I could have predicted it.”

Noctis shot the big man a look that clearly said _idiot!_ before turning a softer expression on Prompto. “Can you grab Ignis' first aid kit from the car?”

“Yeah, 'course.”

“What can I do?” Gladio asked, eyes locked on Ignis' profile as he brushed his fingers across burning skin.

“If you _have_ to do something, find him some clean clothes.”

Clenching his teeth, Gladio leaned forward, looming over Ignis, eyes narrowing at Noctis. “What the hell is your problem? This is _not_ my fault, and you don't get to act like you're the only one who's worried.”

“I didn't _say_ I was the only one. But you weren't there last time he got sick!” Hands clenched in white-knuckled fists, Noctis snarled at Gladio through his teeth. His vision blurred with tears and he wanted to punch the man in his stupid, scarred face.

Stunned by the younger man's tears, Gladio sat back on his heels. “Maybe not, but I'm here now. What can I do?”

Swiping his hands over his eyes, Noctis focused on Ignis. He looked pained. “Start taking down camp. We need to get him to a bed at the very least.”

Nodding, Gladio hesitated. He wanted to do something, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave Ignis' side. Not after last night, after he finally got the man to admit, though not in exact words, they should be together.

“I'll tell you if something changes.”

Gladio glanced up at the sound of Noctis' clipped words. He needed to get to work. Being idle would help no one, so he pushed himself to his feet and passed Prompto on the way out of the tent.

With a double take back at Gladio, Prompto handed over the small first aid kit as he dropped to his knees next to Noctis. “Is Gladio okay?”

“Who cares?” grumbled Noctis, searching through the kit. Finding a cooling gel pad, he tore it open, removed the backing, and placed it on Ignis' forehead.

“Jeez, Noct. Are _you_ okay?” Reaching out, Prompto put a gentle hand on Noctis' back.

Sagging against his boyfriend's shoulder as Ignis' brow eased ever so slightly, Noct sighed heavily. “Ask me again when we get his fever to break.”

Hating the tone in the man's voice, Prompto pressed his lips to Noct's temple. “He'll be okay.”

“I hope you're right.”

Curious, but not wanting to push while Noctis was so clearly upset, Prompto remained quiet. He squeezed the man's arm, watching him idly rub his thumb across Ignis' hand. It hurt to see him this way, and he wanted to do whatever he could to make Noctis' pain and Ignis' fever go away.

“Before you ask, nothing works when he gets sick. He's just gotta ride it out,” Noctis explained, sighing as he looked up at Prompto.

“Seriously?”

Noctis dipped his head in a nod.

“Hey,” Gladio interrupted, stepping back into the tent. “This was the only clean stuff I could find. I honestly don't even know who it belongs to.”

Accepting the articles of clothing, Noctis shook them out. A worn, thin gray tee shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.

“Oh, those are mine,” Prompto said, releasing Noctis.

“Will they fit him?”

“Better than they fit me.”

“Why'd you bring something you never wear?” Gladio asked, quirking a heavy brow.

“I don't really own a lot of clothes,” Prompto muttered. “But this isn't about me. As long as we can make Iggy comfortable.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Gladio. I thought I said to break camp.” Spine straight, Noctis refused to look at the man.

Biting his tongue, Gladio glanced back at Ignis before leaving them alone once again. As he walked back across the haven, he flexed his fists and wanted to hit something. He needed to vent, but he wasn't going to do it over top of Ignis. He wasn't going to yell and scream, he wasn't going to forcibly wipe that glower from Noctis' face, either. What right did he have to think he had a monopoly on worrying about Ignis? Ignis did not belong to Noctis.

Picking up the closest object, Gladio chucked it with all his strength and let out a sharp grunt. The cup shattered on a rock, porcelain spraying out from the impact. He didn't feel any better. In fact, he felt shittier than he had before because he knew Ignis would chew him out for breaking their gear.

Folding up the chairs, Gladio grumbled to himself. He had been pining over Ignis for so damn long, and now that he was allowed to show it, this happened. Noctis wasn't even letting him express his worry. His heart thumped in his chest, he was angry, scared this _was_ somehow his fault, concerned about the expression on Noctis' face. Too many things he wasn't used to. Too many things he couldn't fix for all the strength and brute force in the world.

“You're outta your depth, man,” he grumbled to himself, moving to dismantle the camp kitchen. As he worked, he kept glancing back at the tent. He wanted to be in there, holding Ignis, reassuring him, making sure he was comfortable. He had never seen the man sick and judging by Noct's face, it was very bad when it did happen.

“Hey, Gladio?”

Raising his head at the sound of Prompto's voice, Gladio tried not to glare at the blond. “What?”

“I, uh, just came to see if you needed help. And to see if you're okay.”

“I'm fine,” Gladio growled. “It's Ignis who's sick.”

Crossing his arms, Prompto lowered his head and sighed. “Yeah, I know. Aren't you worried? If Noct were sick, I'd be totally freaking out!”

“You think I'm not?” snarled Gladio, slamming his hand down on Ignis' work bench. Prompto flinched. “But according to _His Highness_ , I'm not permitted to take care of the man I love!”

“I'm sure he didn't mean—”

“That's _exactly_ what he meant! So I'm out here, breaking camp when I _should_ be in there with him!”

Fussing over a chunk of hair hanging in front of his eyes, Prompto peeked up at Gladio from under his brows. “Do you want me to go talk to him?”

Heaving out a long-suffering sigh, Gladio's expression softened as he shook his head. “It won't help anything. Let him have his tantrum. Once we're on the road, though, Ignis is mine to care for.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this, I realized how similar it is to Body Heat. But after this chapter, things will change up a bit I promise!

Petting Ignis' soft, fawn colored hair, Gladio was acutely aware of two things; Noctis' frequent glances at him in the rearview mirror and the painfully tight grip Ignis had on his thigh. The man in his lap was still shivering, despite the heavy blankets they had wrapped him in, Gladio's body temperature, and the heat of the sun. He had yet to start sweating, which is what they were waiting for.

“How's he doing?” Prompto asked, twisting around in his seat.

Gladio sighed. “Nothing changed in five minutes, Prompto.”

“Oh. Uh, sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” grumbled Noctis, looking in the mirror again.

“Why are you so snippy?” Gladio briefly met Noct's eyes in the mirror.

Clamping his mouth shut, Noctis focused his attention on the road.

Shaking his head, Gladio's eyes fell back on Ignis. The shivers had eased, but the furrow of his brow deepened. His hand relaxed, sliding from Gladio's thigh to dangle off the seat. A low moan rumbled in Ignis' throat, the first sound he had made all day. Still unconscious, the man pulled himself further into Gladio's lap. His shaking hands slipped inside the man's jacket, seeking warmth.

“I know we're trying to get him to sweat, but isn't it bad to cover him up when his temperature is high?” Prompto asked, biting his lip as he watched Ignis bury his face against Gladio's stomach.

“It worked for us last time. After we tried potions, elixirs, remedies, traditional medicine...”

Hand resting on the curve of Ignis' hip, Gladio tried to remain still as twitchy fingers brushed against the small of his back. “You keep saying _last time_ , but you don't say anything else. Ever gonna explain what happened?”

Again, Noctis clamped his mouth shut.

Rolling his eyes, Gladio leaned his free arm against the door of the Regalia and watched the landscape roll by. They were on their way to the closest motel, which happened to be the Longwythe Rest Area. There were other, closer rest areas, but none with proper beds.

A pack of sabertusks kept pace with the car, expertly traversing the dry, rocky ground.

“How much longer till we get to Longwythe?” Prompto asked, glancing over at Noctis. He saw how stiffly the man held himself in the driver's seat, teeth clenched and hands tight on the wheel.

“Half hour maybe,” stated Noctis, words clipped.

Pursing his lips, Prompto reached out and gently squeezed Noctis' arm. “Relax, Noct. You're gonna crack.”

“I'll relax when Ignis is better.”

Prompto's hand slid up Noct's arm, to his neck and back across his shoulders before he folded his hands in his lap.

Watching the exchange, Gladio breathed out a steadying sigh. Ignis' entire body stiffened before an attack of bone-deep shivers nearly bucked him out of Gladio's lap.

“Shit, Ignis!” Wrapping his arms around the man, he held tightly until the quaking subsided. “Dammit, can't we give him _something_?”

“I already told you; nothing works!”

“Maybe not then, but they might now. We have to _try_!” snarled Gladio, holding Ignis a bit tighter than necessary.

“Gladio, enough! Do as I say!”

Biting down on his tongue, Gladio tried to quell the sudden rage inside his belly. “Yes, Your Highness,” he hissed out through clenched teeth.

Slack-jawed, Prompto's worry-filled eyes darted between Noctis and Gladio. Noctis looked like he might break if someone breathed on him, his face flushed dark with anger and embarrassment. Gladio's brows were furrowed deeply and his amber eyes burned with resentment. The man's big hands held Ignis protectively.

“G-Gladio?” Prompto ventured, gaze low and voice quiet.

The man barely flicked his eyes up in acknowledgment.

“Do you have Iggy's recipe journal back there?”

The man's eyes narrowed further. “Why?”

“I remember him telling me he had something written down for a...not a cure, but something to ease symptoms? Like a detox, maybe?” Prompto answered, a disgustingly timid knot in his belly which grew as Gladio's murderous glower bore through him.

Quickly glancing around the backseat, Gladio shook his head. “We'll look when we get to the motel.” Combing his fingers through Ignis' hair again, he forced his expression to relax before looking back up at Prompto. The younger man's blond brows were close to trembling with a fear rarely seen. He felt bad for worrying him since he had nothing to do with whatever was happening between him and Noctis. Prompto was concerned for Iggy, too. He shouldn't have to mediate this weird possessive behavior being tossed back and forth between King and Shield.

Gladio couldn't manage an outright thank you or apology, so he offered a half smile. It felt like more of a grimace, but it was the best he could do right now. Whatever the expression on his face, it worked on Prompto. His face relaxed and he gave a soft, oddly reassuring smile in turn. Though it slipped away quickly and he settled back in his seat as the tumultuous silence fell back over them.

Besides the odd soft moan or uncomfortable murmur from Ignis, the only sound filling the car for the remainder of the trip was the purr of the engine.

While it wasn't an excruciatingly long drive, Gladio felt a rush of relief when he saw the sign from the motel. Noctis couldn't pull into the parking place before the run down building fast enough. The car had barely stopped moving before Gladio scooped Ignis up against his chest and got out of the vehicle. Noctis and Prompto scrambled after him as he made a beeline for the clerk at the check-in window.

“Need a room. Now,” he demanded of the elderly man.

The man's eyes widened at the sight of Ignis. He plucked a key off the rack without question and held it out. “Last door at the end,” he instructed, leaning out of his window to point at the far end of the L-shaped building.

Leaving the other two to pay and collect their luggage, Gladio all but snatched the key away and carried Ignis to the room. He struggled to get the door open while cradling Ignis against his chest, but he managed to get him inside. Kicking the door shut, he gently lowered the man onto the closest bed.

Ignis' brow furrowed at the loss of contact and he started shivering once again.

“Don't give me that look. Let me get you into bed,” he gently scolded, putting his hand over the cooling pad on Ignis' forehead. He smiled at the man before moving around to the other side of the bed to pull back the blankets.

He was just tucking the covers around Ignis' shoulders when Noctis and Prompto let themselves into the room. Prompto had an odd expression of annoyance scrunching up his normally cheerful features and Noctis looked like a scolded, petulant child. Gladio raised a brow at the pair.

Noctis set the bag he was holding on the floor and marched over to Gladio. Scowling and blushing, he thrust a book against the big guy's chest without looking at him.

“Uh...thanks,” Gladio said, accepting the book with hesitation.

Noctis didn't reply, just turned away and flopped into a chair. Prompto smirked to himself, sitting on the arm of the chair. He reached out, tugging at a spike of Noctis' hair.

“See, that wasn't so hard.”

Grumbling, Noctis swatted Prompto's hand away and crossed his arms. The pout on his lips, while cute, was unbecoming of his royal status.

“So, you say Iggy's got some sort of healing concoction written in here?” Gladio asked, perching on the edge of the mattress. Ignis rolled toward him, pressing his face against the man's hip.

“Pretty sure that's what he told me.”

Opening the journal, Gladio started flipping through the pages. Some were filled with neat lines of Ignis' tidy, loopy, _official_ handwriting, others with hurried chicken scratch that was only slightly more legible than that of the Citadel physicians. The margins of each page were filled with notes, adjustments, best locations to procure ingredients, and doodles. It was odd and endearing seeing this mess from the infuriatingly anal man.

Gladio had to bite back a laugh when he spotted a rough, cartoony sketch of Noctis sticking his tongue out at a plate of carrots. Another page held a recipe for Ignis' drool-worthy skewered wild trout. At the bottom, written in bold lines, were the words _**GLADIO FAVORITE!**_. Damn straight, it was.

“How does he know what's what in this mess?” Gladio chuckled under his breath as he flipped through more pages. Finally, he landed on something which looked promising, but he couldn't make heads nor tails of the loops and curves that were supposed to form words. He turned the book toward Noctis and Prompto.

“Can either of you read this?”

Prompto leaned forward and took the journal. His eyes widened as they zipped across the page, trying to figure out where to start.

Groaning, Noctis snatched the book away and read out a list of exotic-sounding ingredients. He raised his head when he finished finding Prompto and Gladio staring at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“What? We grew up together, remember? This is what _all_ of his writing used to look like.” He tossed the journal back at Gladio and resumed his sulking.

“Um...where are we gonna get this stuff? I've never heard of any of them.” Prompto leaned against Noctis' shoulder and hooked one leg over the other.

“Could ask the tipster at the Crow's Nest,” Gladio suggested, putting his heavy hand on Ignis' shoulder. His shivers had stilled to almost nothing again, but his skin still burned.

Prompto perked up. “Oh yeah! Hey, I'll go to that right now. Try not to kill each other while I'm gone, 'kay?” Bouncing to his feet, Prompto planted a quick kiss on the top of Noctis' head before leaving the room.

Kicking off his boots, Gladio nudged Ignis over so he could sit properly on the bed beside him. “So Highness...gonna tell me what happened, or am I gonna have to sic Prompto on you?”

Groaning low in his throat, Noctis sat forward and crossed his arms on his knees. “It was just before his fourteenth birthday...”


	3. Chapter 3

Noctis scowled deeply at a particularly puzzling math problem before glancing across the giant oak table at Ignis. His life-long companion itched his cheek and winced when his fingernail grazed a rather painful-looking zit.

“Ignis, I'm bored!” whined Noct, flopping forward on the surface of the table in a display specifically catered to Ignis.

“I was instructed to keep you at this table until you complete your homework, Highness,” replied Ignis, his voice breaking, pitching up and down on the I in Highness. He frowned, readjusting his glasses and clearing his throat.

A wide grin brightened the young prince's features. “Oh, man! That will never _not_ be funny!” he cackled.

“I doubt you'll find it so humorous when your voice begins to break as well,” the teen grumbled, closing a textbook and looking up at Noctis.

Arms stretched out on the table, Noctis shrugged. “Probably not, but it's funny as hell when it's you. And Gladio.”

“Watch your tongue, Highness.”

Groaning, Noct rolled his eyes. “C'mon Ignis! Let's go outside. It's snowing!”

“The forecast didn't call for snow,” muttered Ignis, twisting in his seat to look out the floor-length windows. Sure enough, large powdery flakes fell from the gray sky. His eyebrows rose behind his glasses, his green eyes sparkling. He stared for a moment before turning back to his books. His shoulders drooped, nose twitching briefly as he scowled at the textbook. Conflict flashed in his eyes, myriad emotions darkening his irises.

Noctis watched duty and fun war in Ignis' sharp features, feeling just a little bad for him. Not horrible, as this was typical behavior for the teen. It always had been. But he felt bad enough to convince him to take the afternoon off for once.

Tilting his head, he stared across the table at Ignis. He watched as his friend scribbled something in his notebook, the furrow between his brows deepening. It only took an additional thirty seconds for Ignis to life his head.

“I do not wish to be scolded because you refuse to do your work yet again, Noct. Please stop staring and focus on your books.”

Noctis drew his brows together, eyes widening ever so slightly. The corners of his mouth curved down with a hint of a pout.

A low grumble emanated from Ignis' throat as he set down his pencil. “That expression may work on His Majesty, but it will not work on me. Resume your studies.”

“It works on Clarus and Cor, too. If it works on the Marshal, it _has_ to work on you,” Noct replied, acknowledging his sneaky tactic. He dialed up the puppy-dog eyes and tilted his head. “Please, Iggy?”

Ignis' nostrils flared as he heaved out a long-suffering sigh. “Will you finish your homework when we come back inside?”

Sitting up straight, Noctis grinned as he slammed his books shut. “Yup!”

Closing his eyes, Ignis shook his head in a manner more befitting a thirty-year-old than a thirteen-year-old. He knew he shouldn't indulge such fancies when work needed to be done, his own included, but Noctis rarely enjoyed himself anymore. He moped about, never smiled, barely spoke...Some days Ignis felt as though someone had taken the young prince's place in Tenebrae, and the person before him was not the friend he used to know.

So, much to his annoyance, Ignis indulged the prince on occasion.

Grinning, Noctis cast frequent glances over his shoulder to see if Ignis was still with him. Together, they found their jackets, boots, mittens, and scarves, and headed out to the Citadel gardens.

“You should cover your ears, Noct. His Majesty would have my hide were you to fall ill,” Ignis said as he tugged a wool cap over his head.

Stooping over to grab a handful of fluffy snow, Noctis shook his head. “It's not that cold,” he replied. Snow clung to his dark hair, peppering the black strands with twinkling white spots.

“Your nose is already turning red.”

Frowning at the powder in his hand, Noctis dropped it back to the ground. It was too dry for snowballs or snowmen. “Stop talking like an old man and have _fun_ for once!”

“I don't talk like an old man,” huffed Ignis, picking up his own handful of snow and tossing it half-heartedly at Noctis.

The young prince snorted, his breath puffing out in a white cloud. “You sound like everyone on my dad's counsel. C'mon let's go make snow angels!” Grabbing Ignis' hand, Noctis pulled him through barren garden paths toward a large, bare tree. The spot was good for a nap or picnic during warmer months, but right now it was a flat blanket of untouched white snow. The big tree stood lonely in the middle, waiting for the time of year when it would be the center of attention again.

Ignis allowed himself to be pulled along, wrinkling up his nose when they stepped into the ankle deep pile and some worked its way under his pant leg, freezing his skin. Most children would have loved to be out playing in the snow, but Ignis was not most children. The prospect of being cold and wet sullied any enjoyment he may glean from whatever winter activities Noctis may have in mind.

Noctis released Ignis, took a couple long strides into the snow, turned around, and fell flat on his back. The snow was so loose and powdery, it puffed up in a cloud at the impact.

With crossed arms and raised brow, Ignis watched the bow swish his arms and legs through the fluffy precipitation to create the snow angel. When he was satisfied with the shape he created, Noctis carefully sat up and extracted himself from the vaguely angel-shaped hole. Joining Ignis, he shook snow from the collar of his coat and tilted his head to admire his work.

“Perfect!” he decided, casting a quick grin at Ignis. “Now it's your turn.”

“I would rather not.”

“Ignis,” whined Noct, drawing out the second I. “It's no fun by myself.”

Ignis rolled his eyes in a fair imitation of Clarus Amicitia after King Regis told a bad joke. “Just one. Then perhaps we can do something where I don't have to roll around on the ground.”

Noctis gave Ignis a shove.

With an undignified yelp, Ignis pitched forward, arms reeling. He landed on his belly in a poof of snow. He remained still for a moment before getting his arms under him and sitting up. His shoulders shook with cold and anger.

“Highness!” he squawked, voice cracking. He faced the boy, fixing his glasses as he turned in his nest of powder. With mitten-clad hands, he tugged his cap further down over his ears.

Watching Ignis huff, his nose and cheeks bright red, Noctis' lips began to twitch. The tremble moved from his lips to his shoulders as a tiny giggle bubbled inside him. The giggle morphed into a steady laugh, then a body shaking, eye tearing roar. Noctis howled with laughter, falling onto his backside and holding his sides.

Nostrils flaring with a sigh, Ignis pushed himself to his feet and dusted snow off his clothes as he waited for Noctis' laughter to subside. It seemed a touch excessive, but since he couldn't recall the last time Prince Noctis laughed, he let him be.

Licking his lips, Ignis crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto one leg. It took a while for Noctis' breathing to even out, but when he finally slowed to a pant, Ignis leaned over him where he stretched out on his back.

“It wasn't that funny.”

“It was hilarious! Didn't make a very nice snow angel, though,” Noctis teased, bouncing to his feet despite the stiffness in his back and knee.

Ignis peeked over his shoulder to see the mark he left in the snow. It looked like it had been made by a baby garula with a poor sense of equilibrium.

“I was hardly trying to create anything!” Ignis pursed his lip.

“Did your uncle tie your tie too tight today or something? You've got a stick up your ass.”

“Prince Noctis!” Ignis' eyes flew wide behind his glasses.

“What? Clarus says it about Cor all the time.” Frowning, Noctis kicked at the snow.

“That does not mean you can repeat it to others!”

Noctis lolled his head back in his shoulders, groaning up at the low clouds. “I brought you out here to have fun. As my _friend_ , not my babysitter.” The flat, non-expression that usually rest upon Noctis' face since his return from Tenebrae resumed its place. “Never mind. Let's just go back.”

Something in Ignis' chest tightened. “Noctis, wait.”

The boy raised his big, dark blue eyes.

“Shall we go to the pond? It's really pretty when it snows.”

After a moment's hesitation, Noctis nodded.

Heading back to the path, the boys remained silent as they walked toward the pond. Their boots crunched on the snow and a light breeze whistled through tree branches. As they neared the water, Ignis glanced over at Noctis. His head was down, eyes on his feet, shoulders up around his ears and hands shoved into his pockets. His chunky scarf hid the lower half of his face, but Ignis was sure he was pouting. He opened his mouth to apologize when Noctis raised his head. His blue eyes widened and a grin brightened his features.

“Whoa! It's totally frozen this year!”

“We have had below average temperatures this winter,” Ignis pointed out as Noctis ran to the edge of the pond. As he watched the boy slide a foot out onto the ice, a knot formed in his gut. “I wouldn't advise walking on it, Highness. We don't know how thick the ice is.”

“It's fine.” Noctis ventured further out onto the pond, carefully testing his weight with each step. When he was close to the center of the ice, he stopped and bounced a few times. “See?”

Ignis studied the ice through the shuffling footprints Noctis left in his wake. He saw no cracks and heard no breaking ice.

Noctis held out his hand toward the older boy. “Come on, Iggy!”

Sighing heavily, Ignis stepped out onto the frozen surface of the pond. It felt solid enough beneath his feet. He was glad for his bulky mittens because Noctis would surely tease him for his trembling hands. Though as he made his way to the prince, his fear lessened some. There was no give in the ice sheet, no noises to indicate fractures, no water bubbling up beneath his boots.

A quiet, relieved chuckle hissed from Ignis when he slid to a stop before Noctis, instinctively grabbing his hands to steady himself.

“Okay?” An amused twinkle brightened normally pained blue eyes as Noctis looked up at Ignis.

Ignis inclined his head.

“Good.” Making sure Ignis wasn't going to fall over, Noctis pushed himself away from the teen. He slid across the ice in his boots as effortless as if he wore ice skates.

Cautiously, Ignis followed. His boots slipped over the powder covered ice as he tried to keep up with Noctis. He managed to keep his balance, though just barely.

“Hey, we should go skating for your birthday!” Noctis suggested when he saw a whisper of enjoyment cross Ignis' features. “Not just you and me, but all of us! Gladio, Iris, Clarus...I'll even ask my dad!”

“I would very mu—I'd like that.” Ignis raised his eyes from his feet to look at Noctis. He smiled at the boy.

Noctis' features flushed red and he turned away from Ignis. “T-then it's settled. I'll talk to dad at dinner.” The boy puffed out his cheeks in an adorable pout.

Hiding his mouth behind his hand, Ignis chuckled at the prince's embarrassment. Some days he wondered if Noctis knew how cute he was.

“Race you to the other side!”

Startled from his thoughts, Ignis spun on his heel to chase Noctis. His feet shot out from under him and he fell hard onto his backside. A loud crack echoed through the still garden and Ignis' eyes widened behind his glasses. His first instinct was to scramble away as fast as he could, but logic told him abrupt shifts in weight would only make this worse.

“Noct,” breathed Ignis, his voice calmer than he felt. “I fear I have shattered the ice beneath me.” Lifting one hand, he saw the spider web of cracks and the first signs of water leaking onto the surface.

Panic immediately replaced the expression on Noctis' face. “W-w-what should I do?” he asked, inching close.

“Stay put. Don't come closer. I'll have to carefully shift my position until I can move to safety.” Another loud crack punctuated his words. Ignis dropped an inch and his backside felt cold and wet. Water was flooding through the break now. Ignis' heart hammered in his chest and he was sure his shivering had nothing to do with the ice water saturating his clothes.

“Ignis, you have to move!”

“I know!” Fear locked Ignis to the spot. He didn't want to drown or freeze or die of hypothermia. Logic deserted him and he pushed himself off the ice. As he tried to stand, his legs broke through the surface.

“Ignis!”

Noctis' terrified face was the last thing he remembered seeing before painful cold washed over him and he fell into the icy pond.


	4. Chapter 4

Noctis was on his stomach, arms in the frozen water before he could even think. He knew the pond wasn't very deep, but it would still be over Ignis' head in this spot. His heavy winter clothes would bog him down, and Noctis didn't know if the teen could swim.

Blinking away tears, Noctis grabbed blindly in the water, his fingers quickly losing feeling even with his mittens. After far too long, his hand closed around _something_ , and he yanked. He could hear more chunks of ice breaking away as he pulled the heavy, solid lump toward the surface.

A guttural growl tore from Noctis' throat and he put every bit of strength he could muster into dragging the water-logged teen from the pond. He briefly wondered why Ignis wasn't fighting, why he didn't move at all after he went under.

A young man Noctis didn't immediately recognize appeared at his side, drawn from whatever post he was holding by Noctis' yelling. He effortlessly lifted the thin teen from the hole in the ice.

“Are you okay, Highness?” the young man asked, his sharp gray eyes traveling over Noctis' form as he cradled an unconscious, sodden Ignis against his chest.

Noctis sniffled loudly, shaking his head.

“Let's get him inside.”

Following behind, Noctis almost had to run to keep up with the man's stride. Through tear-blurred eyes, he tried to steal glances at his friend. Ignis' skin was sheet white and his lips had an unhealthy blue tinge. Frost clung to his hair and bloomed on wet clothes.

Wanting to ask about his friend's state, but unable to get the words out, Noctis followed silently. He swiped at his tears with wet mittens and stared at the man's back. Noctis only now noticed the uniform design. This man was part of his dad's Kingsglaive.

Following uselessly behind, he didn't even register when they were back inside the warmth of the Citadel. It wasn't until he heard voices did he truly notice.

“Little help here?” the Glaive barked, his voice echoing in the empty corridor.

“Ulric!” snarled a voice, responding to the man before he was even in their line of sight. “Where the _hell_ have you been?”

“Drautos!” Recognizing the voice, Noctis bolted in its direction. He nearly ran into the man as he rounded a bend in the corridor. “Ignis fell in the pond!”

Without missing a beat, the tall, imposing man turned to the soldier next to him and issued orders. “Notify the physician. We'll get him up to the guest quarters. Then find King Regis and inform Mr. Scientia.”

The soldier nodded and took off at a sprint to carry out his orders.

“What're you waiting for, Ulric? Take him upstairs!” Drautos ushered the Glaive off before turning to Noctis. With a creak of leather and rustle of cloth, he knelt before the prince. “Calm down, Highness. Take a deep breath.”

Noctis did as Drautos said, shucking his wet mittens and coat with trembling hands as he inhaled and exhaled long calming breaths.

Seeing the young prince was of a more level head now, his tears drying, Drautos rose back to his full height. “Good. Now go see your friend and tell my subordinate to get his ass back to training.” The corner of his mouth ticked up in the barest of smirks, making the scars across his nose and cheek wrinkle.

Noctis watched the man turn and head back down the hall. He waited until Drautos was out of sight before sniffling and wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. Leaving his soggy outerwear on the floor for someone else to pick up, Noctis ran in the direction the Glaive Ulric had gone. He took an elevator up to where the guest quarters were located.

By the time he reached the correct floor, his worry had morphed into anger. Anger at himself for being stupid, for pressing Ignis to play when he clearly didn't want to, for being selfish. Again.

Noctis didn't even make it to Ignis' room. He found a stretch of unadorned wall and sat on the floor with his back against it. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his legs. His chest hurt. His head hurt, too. And he was cold.

Clenching his eyes against another bout of tears, Noctis pressed his forehead to his knees. He listened to the silence of the hall, which felt unending. It was really only a few minutes before the quiet was interrupted by heavy bootsteps. They stopped in front of him and he raised his head to see Ulric with a deceptively casual expression on his face.

Noctis furrowed his brow as Ulric sat on the floor before him, crossing his legs. It looked awkward and uncomfortable in the complicated Kingsglaive uniform.

“You okay, Little Prince?”

Noctis wrinkled his nose at the moniker. “I'm fine.”

Eyebrows rose. “Really.” Leaning forward, he crossed his arms on his knees. “The puffy eyes and red, runny nose tell a different story.”

Turning his face away, Noctis gave Ulric a sideways glower. “I'm _fine_ ,” he reiterated.

“See, I know you're lying. But I won't push. Go see your friend.” Climbing back to his feet, Ulric slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled. The little tattoo under his left eye crinkled. “See you, Highness.”

“Drautos said to get your ass back to training!” Noctis called after the Glaive.

Chuckling, the man spun effortlessly on his heel and bowed deeply before continuing to the elevator at the end of the hall.

Shaking his head. Noctis made a mental note to ask his dad about the Glaive known as Ulric. Now, he needed to see Ignis.

It wasn't hard to find the room they took the teen to; it was the only one in the hall whose door stood open, with people standing around. The Glaive who had been sent to find the doctor stood just outside the room speaking to a young woman dressed in an attendant's uniform. She was nodding, paying close attention to his instructions. Two other attendants saw Noctis approach and bustled off to continue their work.

Noctis ignored the adults and moved into the room. Three figures blocked the bed from view.

“Will he be okay?”

Two of the figures turned toward Noctis at the sound of his voice. King Regis and his Shield, Clarus Amicitia. Various emotions crossed their faces upon seeing the prince, but settled on relief.

“Noctis,” breathed Regis, taking a step toward his son.

“Will he be okay?” Noctis asked again, ignoring the man's expression.

With a sigh, the third person in the room stood up and faced Noctis. The older gentleman was carefully folding a stethoscope in his age-spot covered hands as he held Noctis' gaze. “He'll be fine If given proper care for the next few hours. Keep him warm.”

Frowning, Noctis nodded and moved to the bedside. In the short time they had been apart, someone had changed Ignis' clothes and dried him off. He was tucked in so snugly to the massive bed and fluffy pillows that Noctis could barely see his pale face.

“I think it's safe to say he has hypothermia. I'm concerned about how quickly it came on, and his loss of consciousness, however. For now, we'll just try and get his temperature back up. Has his uncle been notified?”

“Mr. Scientia has been in meetings since early this morning and asked not to be disturbed when he arrived at the Citadel,” the attendant outside answered when neither Regis or Clarus had an answer.

“Thank you, Doctor. We'll make sure he's seen to,” Regis said, nodding at the man.

“Majesty.” The doctor bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Adjusting his suit, Regis sat gently on the end of Ignis' bed. Clarus hovered at his shoulder, arms crossed. “How did this happen, Noctis?” he asked softly.

Noctis' mouth remained stubbornly closed.

“Son...”

“It was my fault!” Noctis shouted, shooting a dark glare up at his dad. “It always is,” he muttered under his breath in addition.

Regis flinched, shoulders slumping. He lifted a hand and rubbed it over his neatly trimmed beard. “This was an accident. It was no one's fault,” he assured the boy, placing a warm hand on his back.

“It _was_ my fault!” Noctis insisted, staring at Ignis through tear-blurred vision. “I made him go outside with me. I made him come out onto the ice. I told him to race me, which was why he slipped and broke the ice!” Noctis' voice cracked on the last word. Ignis was right; it wasn't funny when it was him.

“That sounds like an accident to me,” Clarus piped up from behind Regis.

“Clarus is correct. This was no fault of yours. You were playing, as any boys your age ought to, when something unfortunate occurred. Ignis will be fine in a day or two.”

Noctis knew if he answered, he would start crying in earnest, and he refused to cry in front of his father and Clarus.

Realizing he would get nothing more out of the boy, Regis glanced over his shoulder at Clarus. The man's eyebrow twitch was as good as a shrug. Regis sighed quietly and rose to his feet.

“I know it's pointless to ask you to move from his side, so I'll have someone bring dinner up later. And your homework.”

Noctis scrubbed his hands over his eyes as he listened for the door. When he heard it close behind the men, he waited a minute before kicking off his boots and climbing onto the bed next to Ignis.

The teen didn't move, didn't even twitch as Noctis crawled across the wide mattress to sit on the other side. Ignis' lips still had a blue tint, and his skin was as white as the snow falling outside, but the frost was gone from his limp hair.

Noctis tilted his head. He wasn't used to seeing his friend like this. Hair down, no glasses...he looked peaceful and cozy in his nest of blankets. It made his eyelids droop.

“I'm sorry, Specs,” he muttered, flopping onto his side. A wave of exhaustion crashed into him as he finally started to feel warm again. His adrenaline had worn off, leaving him drained. Noctis closed his eyes to blink but fell asleep as soon as his lashes brushed his cheeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I didn't know better, I'd say this story was an IgNoct one...

“Where the hell was I during this?” Gladio snarled, hand coming to a stand still in Ignis' soft hair.

Noctis glanced up, eyes narrow. “I wasn't done yet.”

“You can keep going once you answer my question.” Huffing out a sigh, Gladio continued to pet Ignis' head. He had to force himself not to react to the pointless overprotective pang in his gut at the retelling of past events.

“Shouldn't _you_ know where you were for an entire week?” Noctis asked, slouching low in the armchair.

Furrowing his brow in thought, Gladio watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Ignis' chest. “That was the week dad sent me for winter survival training with Crowe and Tredd.”

“You were in bad shape when they brought you home. You and Iggy were trying to compete with the hypothermia or something.”

“Yeah, and I also had mild frostbite on my toes. Crowe was furious with me and let everyone know how big a wimp the next Shield to the King was,” chuckled Gladio. “How come I never heard about Ignis being sick, though?”

Noctis shrugged one shoulder. “You never asked.”

Closing his eyes, Gladio pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so wanna explain what happened, then? It obviously wasn't regular hypothermia.”

“Well, it was, but we all know Specs isn't a regular guy.”

A soft smile curved the big man's lips. “Got that right.”

Noctis nearly knocked himself over with the force of his eye roll.

“Oh, come on. You can't gush about your little gunslinger, then get mad at me when I compliment Ignis.”

“I don't gush,” grumbled Noctis.

“Maybe not vocally, but the face you make when you look at him definitely counts.”

“Whatever.”

Chuckling, Gladio crossed his ankles and let his hand settle on top of Ignis' head. “Okay, what happened next?”

 

***

 

A persistent grumble in Noctis' belly eventually tugged him from his heavy, dreamless sleep. He didn't want to get up to eat; he was warm and comfortable. However long his nap had been, it must have been a deep sleep. He was nestled in the plush comforter and pillows, and he knew he had fallen asleep _on top_ of the blankets. Next to him, Ignis was still unconscious. He hadn't moved at all, but his skin was now flushed and his brow furrowed.

Noctis didn't know much about illness, but when he touched his friend's forehead and it burned, he knew immediately the teen had a high fever.

Flinging off the covers, Noctis scrambled off the bed and smacked into the door in his rush. He didn't stop to rub the stinging of his forehead as he yanked the door open and found the attendant waiting outside.

“Highness, you're awake! Are you hungry?” she asked with a pleasant smile, eyes flicking briefly to the red spot in the middle of the boy's head.

“Ignis has a fever,” he answered.

“Oh! I'll fetch the doctor right away.”

Noctis left the door open and went back to the bed. He hauled himself onto the foot of the stupidly tall bed and sat cross-legged at Ignis' feet. He stared at his friend, brow furrowed. A heavy lump sat in his belly, making his nauseous. There was nothing for him to do here. He was helpless, useless, and they'd probably kick him out. But he didn't want to leave Ignis' side until he could apologize to him. He didn't care if it was weak, or 'unbecoming of his status', or whatever. Ignis is his _friend_ , his only friend actually, and he'd stick by him.

When the doctor finally arrived, he barely spared a glance for the young prince before moving to Ignis' side. He briefly touched the teenager's skin before he pushed back the blankets and started rifling around in the bag he brought with him.

“What are you doing?” Noctis asked, holding onto his crossed ankles.

“His body temperature has spiked, so I'm removing the blankets and placing a gel cooling pad on his forehead. Then I'll administer some medication that should help regulate his temperature,” the man explained as he removed a rectangular piece of plastic from his bag. He peeled off one side, pushed Ignis's hair away from his forehead, and placed the gel pad.

Noctis watched him work, saw him pull out a vial of something and a sterile needle.

“Whoa! Aren't you supposed to get the guardian's permission before you administer medication to a _child_?”

Noctis looked up to see Clarus standing in the door, arms crossed. The big man narrowed stern brows at the doctor.

“Mr. Scientia has been impossible to contact, and I'm only giving him something for his dangerously high temperature,” the doctor answered, barely glancing at Clarus. He tugged down the collar of Ignis' shirt, sterilized a patch of skin on his upper arm, and inserted the needle.

Clarus grumbled low in his throat.

“Where's dad?” Noctis asked, watching as the doctor righted Ignis' shirt.

“His Majesty has retired for the night, Highness. I was just on my way home but decided I ought to check in on you. Glad I did, too. What's going on here, Doctor?”

A sigh of annoyance passed through the man's thin lips. “I'm not exactly sure. The boy should have come to by now. He should not have a fever, the exact severity of which I am unsure because I haven't taken his vitals. The medication I gave him ought to reduce his temperature, though if things remain unchanged by morning, I recommend we admit him to the infirmary here, or to a hospital.”

Clarus dipped his head in a nod. “What else can you do to keep him comfortable overnight?”

“Not much, I'm afraid. Until the medicine starts to work, this is the best we can do.”

Furrowing his brow, Clarus briefly glanced at Noctis, who watched the exchange with wide, frightened eyes. “Will he be alright leaving him alone overnight?”

“You have two children, Mr. Amicitia. And like children, they have probably been sick before. Do you sit up with them all night, watching them sleep? Or do you go to bed, then respond should they call you?”

Clarus glowered at the doctor. “You need to work on your bedside manner. Prince Noctis?”

The boy perked up, startled.

“You'll be staying here tonight, I assume?”

Noctis nodded.

“I'll make sure someone is outside should you need anything. I will also personally contact his uncle. Sleep well, Highness. We'll see you in the morning.” The large man smiled at Noctis and guided the grumpy doctor from the room.

Lips parted, Noctis blinked at the door as it closed behind the adults. He felt like there was something they weren't telling him. Was Ignis going to be okay? Shoulders slumping, Noctis turned his attention back to his unconscious friend. Color had returned to his skin, but it was only flush from his fever.

“Ignis,” sighed Noctis. The only reply was the grumble of his stomach.

 

***

 

After filling his belly, Noctis went back to bed. He slept heavily, refusing to be awoken by any disturbance. At some point in the mid morning, his mind registered something had changed and roused his sleeping body. Opening his sleep-glued eyes, he immediately noticed the place on the other side of the bed was empty.

Fearing the worst, Noctis sat up, eyes searching the room. He found his father sitting in a plush armchair a few feet from the bed.

“Where's Ignis?” Noctis demanded.

Regis lifted his head, closing the book he hadn't actually been reading. “He was taken to the infirmary quite early this morning.”

“Is he okay?”

Leaning forward, Regis propped his elbows on his knees. “I'm afraid he isn't doing well, son. His fever is very high, and he isn't responding to medications.”

Noctis scrambled off the bed. “I want to see him.”

“Noctis, wait.” Pushing himself to his feet with an odd stiffness, Regis approached his son. “I know you're worried about him, but there's nothing you can do. Let the doctors do their jobs.”

He knew his dad was right, but that didn't stop him from being stubborn. “I want to see him,” Noctis repeated.

Another sigh flowed through Regis' nose as he lowered himself to a squat before his child. He closed his hands around the boy's thin arms and looked him in the eye. “Noctis, I know better than anyone the need to remain at the side of someone you are worried about. I also know that worrying is not productive, and can often lead to more problems for those around you,” he explained. Pausing for a moment, he shook his head. “What I'm trying to say is, you can't spend every second with him until he's better. Focus on your studies and training, distract yourself.”

Gritting his teeth, Noctis jerked back out of Regis' gentle touch. “Why are you trying to keep me away from him? What's wrong?” A knot of panic settled in his gut and his palms were clammy.

“Calm down, Noctis. Everything is fine. Ignis' uncle is with him now, keeping an eye on things.”

“What aren't you telling me‽”

Regis' warm green eyes grew wide. “Noctis!”

The boy flinched.

Getting back to his feet, Regis scrubbed a hand through his beard. “Noctis, please. I'm not keeping anything from you. At this point, you know as much as I.”

Crossing his arms, Noctis lowered his face, his cheeks hot. “Then why can't I see him?”

“I never said you couldn't, I said you couldn't spend every waking moment with him. You need to take care of yourself, too. Eat, train, shower. You may visit with him this evening.”

A pout settled on Noctis' lips. “Gladio isn't here. Who am I supposed to train with?”

Regis thought for a moment. “I have a gifted young Glaive who might be of some help.”

“Who?”

“I believe his name is Nyx Ulric.”


	6. Chapter 6

Noctis pulled his feet onto the chair, tucking them underneath him as he stared at Ignis. He hadn’t gotten any better. Three days and he hadn’t shown any signs of waking. His fever went down only when forced by ice baths, but would climb again in hours. He had an IV sticking out of his arm, monitors attached to him to keep track of his heart and blood pressure and brain activity. Nothing they gave him worked. They had gone through a long list of medications that Noctis didn’t even pretend to understand, and only a handful he did. He eavesdropped on doctors and nurses talking to Mr. Scientia, learned that no one really knew what was wrong. Shortly into the second day, violent shivers began to sporadically attack his comatose body. They looked painful and exhausting, and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to ease them.

Taking a deep breath, Noctis winced at the bruising on his side. His substitute trainer had not gone easy on him over the course of the last few days. Noctis hated sparring with Nyx even more than he did Gladio. Though he was patient in correcting mistakes, he also pushed through things a lot faster. It sucked, and no one would let him use the bottled potions the soldiers used to heal their wounds.

Noctis quirked a brow at Ignis. He wondered if the medical staff had thought to use any of the magical concoctions on the teen. Potions, elixirs, remedies…there were all sorts of non-traditional items they could try.

He sat still for a while, contemplating if he ought to find a staff member and ask about the potions. A light scent of smoke wafted on the air, but Noctis didn’t think much of it. Until he saw the source, however. Thin tendrils of gray smoke rose from the blanket of Ignis’ bed where his fingers touched the cloth.

Noctis shot from his chair, acutely aware of the pain and stiffness in his limbs. Rushing to his friend’s side, he called for help because there wasn’t anything else he _could_ do. The smoke was getting thicker now, but there were no flames.

A nurse arrived to see what the commotion was about, his eyes doubling in size at the sight of the smoke. He called someone else over to help him before jogging the few steps to the bedside and yanking the blanket off the bed. As soon as Ignis’ hands touched the sheet below, it began to smoke as well.

“Magic?” Noctis questioned out loud before someone shoved him out of the way. “It’s coming from him! From his hands!” He wasn’t sure if anyone heard him, but at that moment his mind locked on the need to tell his dad about this.

Sprinting through the Citadel, Noctis let his feet carry him to King Regis’ personal office. He narrowly avoided employees and officials, sprinting between them as he chased through the familiar halls. When he reached the room, he burst through the door.

“Dad!”

Regis and Clarus stared at the boy, eyes wide.

“Dad!” Noctis declared again, flattening his hands on top of the enormous wooden desk.

Rubbing a hand over his buzz-cut hair, Clarus got to his feet and moved from his perch on the edge of the desk to stand behind Regis’ chair. Clearing his throat, Regis folded his hands on the surface of the desk and looked at his son.

“Noctis, we’ve talked about knocking. You’re old enough to—”

“Dad, Ignis can use magic!”

Regis blinked at the boy. “Pardon?”

“I was visiting him and anything his hands touched just…started smoking! It’s gotta be magic!” An excited grin brightened Noctis’ features as he stared at his dad, waiting for a response.

“Is…is he awake?”

Noctis shook his head.

“Subconsciously evoked magic? How unusual.”

“The boy has always been gifted. Showing the ability to use magic isn’t all that far-fetched. Especially given his relationship with Noctis,” said Clarus.

Tapping his long fingers on the desk, Regis lifted a brow and turned his chair to face his Shield. “I wonder if this isn’t the source of the boy’s mysterious illness?” he asked, the corner of his mouth tilting in a conspiratorial smirk.

Clarus chose to go along with the man’s thoughts. “It’s a theory. If he leans toward the flames, and an accidental ice bath brought this on…”

Noctis watched the men speak, the excitement on his face replaced with confusion.

“It would stand to reason the elements are warring within him.”

“I’ve heard stranger tales, Majesty,” chuckled Clarus, sounding not entirely convinced, but willing to humor Regis.

“Oh, come now,” Regis said with a click of his tongue. “We’ve experienced all manner of bizarre things! Is it really so difficult to believe the young man has gained the favor of the Astrals even if he isn’t part of the Lucis Caelum bloodline?”

Clarus let out a quiet sigh but still smiled. “I suppose not. After all, through you, the Glaives can wield the elements as well.”

Regis grinned. “Exactly. But I do not recall bestowing any such abilities on young Ignis.”

“Perhaps the Six have decided Prince Noctis may need…help…in the future,” Clarus teased.

“Hey!”

Regis and Clarus turned their attention back to Noctis, who stood on the other side of the desk, arms crossed and frowning. Regis brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he turned a chuckle into a clearing of his throat.

“We all need help sometimes, son. That’s what Ignis and Gladiolus are there for. Now, shall we go to the infirmary and speak with the doctor about this interesting development?” Without waiting for a response, Regis rose from his chair and headed for the door. Clarus and Noctis followed.

 

***

 

Gladio’s lips tried to form the word a handful of times before he managed to get it out. “What?”

Noctis scoffed. “Yeah, even then I thought my dad’s theory was ridiculous. I swear he thought the Glacian and Infernian were fighting over Ignis.”

“So is this anything like what happened then? I mean, he hasn’t set my leg on fire yet,” Gladio said, lowering his gaze to where long, slender fingers squeezed his thigh. Ignis’ grip was intense even when he was unconscious.

Sighing, Noctis shrugged. “It is, but it isn’t. It was brought on by a temperature shock, for sure. But I don’t think magic has anything to do with it this time.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because he hasn’t set your leg on fire?”

“Besides that, smartass.”

Noctis snickered. “Everything is more accelerated this time. It’s presenting the same way otherwise, though it’s probably only mental and physical stress.”

“After the last couple weeks, I get the physical stress. But mental?”

Noctis gave the big guy a flat expression, staring at him from under his brows. “Really?”

“What?” Gladio’s eyes narrowed.

Noctis’ brows disappeared behind his bangs. “It’s a good thing you’re strong, cause you’re not very smart.” Sighing through his nose, Noctis shook his head. He never would have thought Gladio would be so dense.

“What?” the man asked again, opening a hand in a vague gesture of frustration.

“I don’t think I should have to explain why a new relationship would be mentally stressful to someone like Specs,” grumbled Noctis, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As realization set in, the color drained from Gladio’s face. “Wait. This is _my_ fault?”

“That’s what I said this morning. Ignis is a tough guy, but pile too much on and his body’ll shut down.”

Grumbling, Gladio scrubbed his hands over his face. He looked down at Ignis, who merely appeared to be sleeping at the moment. His skin still burned, but the crease of his brow had eased and his shivers were nil at the moment.

An icy hand clutched Gladio’s heart. Ignis had been overwhelmed by his affections. He never wanted to hurt the man, but apparently, he came on too strong at the worst time. What had he been thinking? Practically forcing his feelings on the man when he was already in a compromised state of mind and body? It wasn’t fair to Ignis.

Moving the man’s hand from his leg, Gladio moved off the bed. It wasn’t easy to ignore the quiet sound that Ignis made as the heavy scowl returned to his sleeping face, but Gladio managed somehow. Clenching his hands into fists, he dropped into the chair opposite Noctis.

“Any news from Prompto?”

Noctis ignored him as he typed something out on his phone.

Growling low in his throat, Gladio closed his eyes. A heavy fatigue settled in his limbs and a knot of self-loathing in his gut. He should have known better. He should have buried his emotions like he always did, should have left this as an adolescent crush, should have let it die with Insomnia. Should have, but didn’t. Couldn’t.

Ignis meant too much to him for too long. It was his sworn duty to protect Noctis, but Gladio always included Ignis in that oath as well. But he was failing. He was causing misery and it made him sick.

“Gladio!”

Eyes snapping open, they flicked toward Noctis in the other chair. The younger man held his phone to his ear as he stared wide-eyed at Gladio.

“What?”

“You’re gonna rip the arm off the chair.”

Glancing down at his hand, he saw the death-grip he had on the upholstery. He relaxed his clutch and even smoothed out the imprints left behind by his fingers.

Narrowing his eyes, Noctis turned his attention back to his call. “Yeah. Uh-huh…Okay. Do you want one of us to come with you? You sure? Uh-huh. Okay, be safe…You, too.” Keeping his head low to hide the blush on his cheeks, Noctis ended the call. “Prompto’s going to collect a couple of the ingredients that grow nearby.”

“How far?”

“He said it was just by the pump jacks. Not too far. He said he’d be careful.”

“I don’t like him going off on his own,” Gladio grumbled.

“You think I do?” Noctis replied, folding his arms. “But he’s not so far that we won’t hear if he gets in trouble.”

Gladio sighed, eyes traveling back to Ignis. He scowled deeply in his sleep, hand twisting in the bedding where Gladio had been sitting.

Noctis groaned low in his throat, shaking his head at the conflict in Gladio’s eyes. “So, after we learned Ignis could use magic, they kept him under pretty strict observation in the infirmary…”


	7. Chapter 7

“We tried that.”

“What about a Remedy?”

“We tried that, too.”

“Well, there's always—”

“We've tried every magical and medicinal treatment we can think of, Majesty. _Nothing_ works.”

Regis folded his arms across his chest and stared at the doctor. The man stared back.

“What about not treating anything and letting his body sort it out?” Clarus suggested, speaking slowly as though he was talking to a child.

“Do you know how dangerous that is?” the doctor demanded, turning on Clarus. “His fever gets so high he could experience brain damage. We've barely been able to keep his temperature at safe levels as it is.”

“What has Mr. Scientia said?” Regis asked, unphased by the doctor's snippish tone. “Surely he has given some input?”

Clarus scoffed.

“He hasn't said much beyond _make him healthy again_.”

“How pragmatic of him,” Regis grumbled with a quirked brow.

As the men bickered, Noctis stood at his friend's bedside, watching the discomfort of illness play out on his sleeping face and wishing he could help. They had suspended Ignis' arms above the bed so he didn't burn anything else, and it looked uncomfortable. It had only been a few days, but Noctis didn't think anyone was washing Ignis, either. His skin had a greasy sheen, and oil made his hair dark and heavy. Even at thirteen, Ignis was a stickler for hygiene and appearance, and Noctis knew if Iggy found out about this, he'd be mortified and livid.

Flopping into the chair next to the bed, Noctis leaned his elbows on the mattress. “Why aren't you waking up?” he asked, reaching out to squeeze Ignis' dangling fingers. A tingle of magical energy flowed between the boys as soon as their skin touched. Noctis hissed a quiet breath through his teeth in surprise but didn't pull away. He could feel _something_ happening, though he wasn't entirely sure what. It felt like a flower blossoming deep within him, it's vines unfurling, reaching toward a water source. His inherited magic reaching out to nurse the budding energy inside Ignis. Igniting him. Heat crept up his fingers, spreading through him, warming him from head to toe.

Eyes wide, Noctis stared at Ignis' closed lids, saw his expression relax, saw...comfort? wash over his body. What was going on here? The tingle was gone, and the palm of Ignis' hand was clammy. Beads of sweat popped up on the teen's forehead.

Noctis was shoved aside unceremoniously as the doctor came to observe the change registered on the monitors hooked to Ignis. Stumbling, the boy fell against his dad. He tilted his head back to look up at the man, brow creased in confusion. Regis' hand sat, warm and comforting, on his shoulder.

“What's going on, Doctor?”

“It would appear as though his fever broke. I'm not entirely sure how, as we haven't given him anything in the last four hours.”

“So his body just sorted it out on its own?” Clarus asked, a smug smirk settling on his face.

“Dad, I don't thi—”

Regis squeezed Noctis' arm. He raised his other hand, putting a finger to his lips to quiet his son. “Please let me know as soon as he wakes up. Clarus, I'll be spending the remainder of the day with my son. Why don't you have an evening at home with little Iris for a change?”

Brow twitching with quickly concealed confusion, Clarus bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

Noctis cast a glance back at Ignis as his dad steered him from the room with a hand on his back. They walked in silence for quite some time, though halls toward seldom used elevators toward the rear of the Citadel. The elevator took them up to more, less populated halls, and eventually to a well maintained indoor garden. The glass dome overhead showed heavy clouds and falling snow.

“Dad, what's going on?” Noctis finally asked when they stopped to sit on a bench.

“You've learned how magic flows in the Lucis Caelum blood, yes?” Regis asked, glancing down at the boy next to him.

Noctis dipped his head in a nod.

“And you also know how it's possible for us to extend the use of that magic to a select few?”

“But I can't use magic like you,” Noctis mumbled, scuffing his shoe against the gravel path.

“Not yet, but it still flows in your veins, son. Not through any blessing of mine, but because of who you are. It seems Ignis has some of that energy in him as well. Not the same as you or I, but enough to show promise.”

“I don't get it...”

“Not only will Ignis serve as a good advisor and confidant for you in the future, but with magical skills, he may be an excellent guard as well.”

A scowl creased Noctis' brow. “I get _that_ , but I don't get what this has to do with him being sick.”

Regis thought for a moment. “I'm no doctor, but if I had to guess, the shock of falling in the pond, combined with the stress his body is already under, sent his system into a frenzy. His dormant magical powers caused a build-up of energy his body didn't know how to deal with. When you held his hand, your energy calmed his.”

Noctis blinked up at the man, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Really, dad? That sounds like something from a storybook.”

Regis shrugged, a sheepish grin highlighting the wrinkles around his eyes. “It very well may be, but I don't have a better answer for you,” he laughed, ruffling Noctis' hair.

“Dad!” whined Noctis, swatting the hand away.

“Whatever the boy is going through, a broken fever is a good sign. The Astrals have shown their blessing and he is, hopefully, on his way to health once again.” Regis pulled the boy to his side and hugged him. “He'll be okay, Noctis.”

While Noctis knew not even the King could guarantee Ignis' health, the man's words made him feel better.

 

***

 

“I always sorta guessed Iggy had some innate magical ability since he can pull out tricks like Sagefire. So puberty and a dunk in cold water woke it up in him?”

“Sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“Wonder if the Scientia's are related to the Lucis Caelum's somewhere along the line.”

Noctis shrugged. “It's possible. Not everyone can go on to take the throne, after all.”

“True enough.” Gladio heaved a sigh, eyes locking on Ignis. The man was still clutching at the bedding, random bouts of shivering making him tense and curl up in the center of the mattress.

“You know you're making him more uncomfortable by staying away, right?”

Narrowing his eyes, Gladio glowered at Noctis. “What?”

“Just look at him. He was calm when you were there. Does he look calm now?”

“Uh-uh. You don't get to do that, Noctis.”

“Do what?”

“Guilt-trip me. You think I don't wanna be over there? You think I don't wanna be doing whatever I can to fix this? You think I don't wanna apologize for causing this? You aren't the only one who's allowed to worry about their boyfriend. If this was as easy as searching through caves like you had to do for Prompto, I wouldn't be sitting here like a useless piece of shit.” Clenching his teeth, Gladio balled his hands into fists and punched the arm of the chair.

Propping his chin on his fist, Noctis watched the mini-meltdown with a bored expression. He felt just a little bad for planting that seed, but he needed to see if Gladio's affections were more than skin deep. It wasn't as though he didn't trust the man to care properly and deeply for Ignis, but he had seen how short lived all of Gladio's previous relationships had been. He didn't want that to happen to his two oldest friends. Though Ignis was supposed to serve him, he was, for all intents and purposes, his brother. They were raised together, and Noctis didn't want to see him hurt. It was more Noctis' own selfish protectiveness than anything.

“Go, you idiot,” Noctis eventually grumbled, tired of watching the war on Gladio's face. His thick brows were so deeply furrowed, they were threatening to become one massive, caterpillar-y unibrow.

Gladio growled.

Noctis lolled his entire head with his eye roll. “Whatever. I'm gonna go see if Prom needs help. Stay here and beat yourself up.” Pushing himself to his feet, he headed for the door, kicking Gladio's foot on the way by.

When the door clicked shut, Gladio let out a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand through his hair. He grit his teeth and wrinkled up his nose. One leg bounced in impatience. He sat there for a few minutes, watching Ignis. Five excruciating minutes ticked past before he couldn't handle the silence any longer and rose from his chair. He crossed to the bed and knelt on the floor beside it. He reached out, gently taking Ignis' hand and linking their fingers.

“Y'know, you've spent ninety percent of this new relationship unconscious. Doesn't exactly do good things for my ego, Iggy.” Gladio sighed, bringing Ignis' hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. With his free hand, he pushed the man's limp bangs away from his face. “We need you, Ig'. _I_ need you. You think I could take care of those two without you? No way. I swear to the Six, you've always been my saving grace. On days when Noct's apathy and Prompto's complaining gets to be too much even for me, I just look to you. Your calm, level-headedness keeps us from tearing each other's throats out. Well, keeps me from kicking their asses.” He laughed derisively.

Ignis sighed.

“Dammit. This is all crap I should be saying to your face while you're conscious. But I'm a coward when it comes to this shit. Times like this I envy Prompto's earnest personality.”

Groaning low in his throat, Gladio leaned forward and rest his forehead on Ignis' shoulder. He sat like that for a moment before his back began to ache. Getting up, Gladio never released Ignis' hand as he climbed onto the bed next to him. Stretching out, he gently repositioned Ignis to cradle him against his chest. Once again he was holding the man, waiting for him to regain consciousness.

“This sucks,” Gladio sighed, flopping his head back against the pillow.

 

***

 

Noctis scratched the back of his head, staring at the scuffed wooden slats beneath his feet. He hadn't been able to hear every word, but he picked up enough to realize he should never have doubted Gladio. The guy was stupidly in love with Ignis, even if he couldn't show it properly until he thought no one would notice. He couldn't blame him for that, though. He was the same with Prompto.

Shaking his head, Noctis went to find the only member of their team who was doing actual work.


	8. Chapter 8

Noctis jogged up the hill and spotted Prompto immediately. He was squatting on the ground, staring intently at something at the base of a pump jack.

“Need help?”

Prompto yelped and fell back on his butt at Noctis' feet. He looked up, wrinkling his freckled nose. “Noct!” he whined.

Grinning, Noctis stooped over and hooked his hands under Prompto's arms. He hauled the man to his feet and dusted off his backside. Prompto blushed. Noctis smiled and kissed his nose.

“What're you looking at here?” Noctis asked, gesturing to the scraggly plants growing at the base of the jack.

“I don't know which one is the one I need,” sighed Prompto, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one leg. “Iggy's got a variety of plants and herbs in his kit, so I'm pretty sure this is the last one we need for the concoction. Only problem is, the guy at the diner didn't tell me if I needed the one with the blue veins or the one with the yellow veins.

“Look up a picture,” Noctis suggested.

Prompto held up his phone to show his lack of signal. “Tried that.”

“So you've been sitting out here, staring at weeds? Why not just go back and ask?”

“Because that would make sense, Noctis,” Prompto stated sarcasm dripping from his voice.

“Wow. Where's this salt coming from?” Noctis asked with a dry chuckle as he bent over to pluck both plants from the loose dirt.

Sighing, Prompto brushed a chunk of blond hair away from his eyes. “I'm worried. I've never seen Iggy like this. I mean, other than last night when that Cryo-whatever knocked him out. But this is different.”

Noctis nodded. “Ignis and an excess of magical energy don't get along well. He also doesn't really do temperature shocks well, either. Mix that with physical and emotional drain, and you get that,” he explained, extending a hand toward the motel.

“Just getting hit by that ice spell was enough to knock him out?” Prompto asked, frowning. “Iggy's stronger than that!”

“Well, no. Not exactly,” Noctis replied, looking at the two plants he held. “It's hard to explain...” he sighed.

Prompto watched him patiently as he tried to gather his thoughts. They started moving back toward the Crow's Nest to ask about the plant, Noctis' brow furrowed.

“Well...without retelling the entire story I just told Gladio, stress woke up Ignis' minor talent for magic. Too much energy and no outlet kept him unconscious. I know it sounds stupid, but that's the simplest way to put it. He learned how to burn off buildup like that, but this isn't quite the same. He woke up after that ice blast yesterday, so it isn't exactly that? I think? He was already getting sick, we haven't had much down time recently for him to take it easy, plus this thing with Gladio...I think he's just burned out. Although...”

Prompto raised an eyebrow. “Although?”

“I was told his magic was brought on by hormonal changes. I wonder if his closeness to Gladio over the last day caused a change that kicked that energy into overdrive again.”

Prompto snorted. “Iggy got so worked up his brain rebooted?”

“What? N-no! No, that's not really what I meant. Ugh, forget it,” Noctis grumbled, wrinkling up his nose as heat crept into his cheeks.

Chuckling, Prompto hooked his arm around Noctis' neck. “You said temperatures bug him? What if he literally overheated?”

“Doing what?”

“Sapping heat from Mr. Walking Heater? Maybe his body overcompensated for the ice by taking in too much heat,” Prompto suggested with a shrug.

Noctis stopped walking, turning his full attention on the blond. “That actually makes a lot of sense. Gladio may not have magic, but he certainly has an energy to him. Ignis' magic is based in fire, so maybe he subconsciously stored that energy. I wonder if I can do what I did last time...”

“What did you do last time?”

Noctis winced. “I don't know...exactly.”

Leaning heavily on Noctis, Prompto lowered his head and groaned. “Seriously, Noct?”

“What? I was a kid! All I did was touch his hand, and my magic...did... _something_.”

“Uh...okay? But you touched him this morning, and nothing happened.”

“Right,” grumbled Noctis. “Wait...why did that work then and not now? I know my dad touched him, too, but nothing happened. Not until I did it.”

Crossing the road, Prompto released Noctis and shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe 'cause he was more familiar with you? You know each other really well, after all. Actually, for a long time, I thought you and Ignis were secretly seeing each other.”

“What? Gross. No, he's like a brother to me. We're family.”

The pair stopped before heading into the Crow's Nest and looked at one another.

“Maybe it had something to do with that? You aren't the person Iggy loves most anymore. Things have changed.”

Prompto's tone was light and teasing, but somehow it made Noctis a little sad. And just a touch jealous. But it was true. They grew apart as teens, taking their separate paths which only twisted together occasionally. This was when they truly became Prince and Advisor. When Noctis grew up a little, they managed to come back together as friends, but it wasn't the same. The unquestioning trust and love were there, but it felt more like caretaker and child than the brotherly bond they shared as kids. Even if Noctis was Ignis' primary concern, he was no longer his only concern.

“Noct, you okay buddy?”

Raising his eyes, Noctis was met with a concerned gaze, full of love. His heart thumped in his chest and he nodded. He had no need for the selfish, possessive jealousy that nagged at the back of his mind.

“Yeah. I just hope this medicine will work.”

“Me, too.” Prompto reached out and gave Noctis' arm a gentle squeeze before heading into the diner.

 

***

 

Gladio shivered. He hoped he wasn't getting sick as well. Though he was sure he was only feeling drained because he had been expending so much energy worrying about Ignis. Now that he had time to think, he was noticing the heaviness in his limbs. He wondered if this was how Noctis always felt, always wanting to sleep the day away.

Rolling onto his side, Gladio faced Ignis. He sighed and pulled the man close. The redness in his cheeks had faded, and he was sure the man wasn't quite as warm as he had been earlier. His dry lips were parted and his breathing was regular. It seemed like he was only having a nice nap. He looked deceptively peaceful.

Gladio couldn't help himself. He closed the scant distance between them and pressed his lips against Ignis'. It was a gentle kiss, only meant to give Gladio a little comfort. He didn't expect the tingle in his lips, or the warmth seeping into his core. He pulled back in surprise and searched Ignis' face. Nothing had changed. He still slept, his face slack. Frowning, curiosity got the better of Gladio and he kissed Ignis again. Again, a pleasant tingling danced across his lips. He brought his hand up to cup Ignis' cheek and the sensation spread into his fingers. Gladio sighed into Ignis' mouth. It took too much effort to keep the kiss chaste, but a knot of guilt twisted up his stomach.

“Stop molesting the unconscious man,” Gladio growled to himself, tilting his head and pressing his forehead to Ignis'. He closed his eyes, but the exhaustion he felt only a few minutes ago had dissipated. Now he was warm and cozy and just wanted to hold Ignis and talk with him. Just spend a lazy afternoon together, relaxing, enjoying one another's company.

“C'mon, Iggy. I'm getting real lonely without you,” he whispered, ghosting his lips over Ignis' eyelids. Between them, Ignis' hand twitched, his fingers brushing lightly against Gladio's beard. He grabbed the hand and kissed the knuckles.

“Geeze, if Prompto or me got sick, you'd just yell at us to man up,” Noctis commented to announce their return.

“I can kiss you to make it better too, if you want,” Gladio growled in response, hugging Ignis.

“Nah, your beard would be itchy.”

“Uh...you guys obviously made up,” Prompto observed, setting Ignis' kit on the low table.

Noctis shrugged.

“You never did tell me what happened after his fever broke,” Gladio said, rolling onto his back and folding his arm under his head.

“Isn't much else to tell,” Noctis replied, helping Prompto pull items from Ignis' kid. “It took another day for his temperature to return to normal and to regain consciousness. I was glued to him until they let him go home.”

“Right. So you guys got everything for that recipe?”

Prompto had the journal open on the table and his phone in one hand. “I think so,” he said, looking up each ingredient before picking it out of the assortment of dried and fresh plants.

“The question is, will it work?”

Gladio only sighed in response.

Noctis let Prompto work and approached the bed. He leaned across Gladio and put his hand to Ignis' cheek. “Feels like he's cooled down some,” he mumbled, pulling the gel pad off his forehead.

“I thought so, too. Did that gel thing actually do some good?” Gladio asked, looking up at Noctis.

“Maybe a little. But probably not enough to bring his fever down this much. Oh...he's starting to sweat,” Noctis commented, pointing out the damp hair at his temples.

“Oh, thank the Astrals,” sighed Gladio.

“Do we still need this?” Prompto asked, holding up the plant with the blue veins.

“Yeah, make it anyway. It can't hurt to give it to him. Might help with the cold he was getting before this.” Standing up straight, Noctis crossed his arms.

A deep frown settled on Gladio's face as he slowly sat up. He stared at Ignis, his heavy brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Uh...you said your fingers tingled when you touched Ignis?”

Noctis flopped into an armchair. “Yeah. What about it?”

“That was just because of your magic, right?”

“That's what I'm told.”

Prompto looked from Noctis to Gladio. “What are you guys talking about?”

A knowing smirk spread on Noctis' lips. “I'll tell you the story later, Prom.” He watched Gladio contemplate Ignis and almost laughed. The man had no idea what was happening. He had no clue how deep his connection to Ignis now was. Though Noctis wasn't entirely sure if his theory was correct, he liked the way it sounded. Ignis' abilities ran deeper than he imagined.

The group fell silent as Prompto carefully, meticulously followed the instructions in Ignis' journal. It took him half an hour to mix the concoction together.

“You sure that's right?” Noctis asked, wrinkling up his nose.

“It looks vile,” added Gladio.

Prompto's shoulders jumped in a shrug as he stared down at the soup, yellow-green mess in the bowl. “I don't know! I don't really have anything to go by, guys.”

“It won't poison him, will it?” Gladio grumbled, glancing over his shoulder to where Ignis lay curled up on the bed.

“This isn't exactly my area of expertise, big guy. I followed his instructions, so unless he forgot to write something down...” Prompto trailed off with another shrug, handing over the bowl.

“How much am I supposed to give him?”

Prompto consulted the journal. “Half now, then the other half in two hours.”

Gladio scowled down at the bowl. “I sure hope this helps.”


	9. Chapter 9

Gladio glared at Noctis and Prompto, who slept peacefully on the other bed. They cuddled together under the comforter, content and happy in each other’s company. Gladio felt a little jealous. That was supposed to be him and Ignis.

Staying awake all night, worrying, fussing, trying to keep the man comfortable, wasn’t exactly how he pictured the first full day of his relationship with Ignis going. He wasn’t complaining about it, though. He had no problem taking care of the other man. Ignis didn’t let people worry about him if he could help it. Gladio would never admit it out loud, but it was kind of nice for a change.

He sighed heavily and squeezed Ignis, only to receive an annoyed grunt in response. Eyes shooting wide, he leaned back and looked at Ignis’ scowl.

“You seem intent on crushing me to death,” the man mumbled sleepily, his voice hoarse.

“Ignis!” A surprised laugh hissed from his throat and he kissed the man’s forehead. “Oh, thank the Gods you’re awake! I was freaking out all damn day because of you.”

Ignis tried to laugh, but it came out as a dry, raspy cough.

“Hey, take it easy, babe.”

Ignis’ muscles screamed in protest as he maneuvered his elbows under him to sit up. “I’ve been confined to bed all day, how much easier do you expect me to take it?” he complained, but didn’t protest Gladio’s assistance.

“What? How do you know that? You were unconscious all day.”

Reaching for a glass of water on the bedside table, Ignis raised a brow. “You aren’t as observant as I gave you credit for, in that case.”

“Well, if you were awake, why didn’t you say anything?”

“And interrupt your speeches?”

Gladio’s cheeks took on a pink tinge and he flared his nostrils. “I’m being serious, Iggy.”

Ignis stifled another cough. “The handful of times I did wake, I barely had my faculties about me. It was easier just to go back to sleep. My body needed it, obviously.”

“So then it was just a regular fever?” Gladio asked, putting the back of his hand to Ignis’ forehead. He felt much cooler.

“As much as I hate to admit it, it would seem I caught a cold. A rather nasty one, at that.” He put the water back and faced Gladio. The man wore an odd expression, only partially identifiable as confusion. “Gladio?”

“I feel like an idiot,” he grumbled, leaning forward and putting his head against Ignis’ shoulder. “Noct made me think you had some magic, stress induced fever. Because of that, I didn’t do any of the things I shoulda done. You probably suffered a lot longer than you needed to because I believed him.”

Putting his hand on Gladio’s head, Ignis turned his face to kiss his hair. “Don’t blame him for thinking that. Though I never spoke to him directly about what happened, I was told he was so scared he refused to leave my side during that time. You know how hard it is for him to properly express his emotions.”

“So that actually happened? He wasn’t just making shit up to make me feel guilty?”

“If it hadn’t, I may not have my magic today.”

Sitting up, Gladio huffed out a sigh. “Wait, I’m a little lost here.”

“Oh?” coughed Ignis.

“This afternoon, I kissed you and my lips tingled. Then my hand did when I touched your face. It was a lot like what Noct said happened to him. If that wasn’t magic, what was it?”

Ignis smiled softly. “I once read a fairy tale as a child that described such a phenomenon. When two people are fated to one another, their energy forms a connection. It would seem we are meant to be together.”

Gladio’s heart raced, each beat hard against his ribs. “I never took you for a romantic, Iggy.”

Any snappy come back the man may have had was cut off by another round of dry coughing. On the other side of the room, Prompto groaned and rolled onto his back.

“We can finish talking about this in the morning,” Gladio said, rubbing his hand over Ignis’ back.

Ignis shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to talk more now. I’ve had enough sleep and fever nightmares,” he grumbled.

“You’re still sick. You should rest.”

“Having a conversation will hardly kill me, Gladio. But first, if you could assist me in getting to the toilet, I’d greatly appreciate it. I’m still a bit dizzy.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Getting off the bed, Gladio went to the other side and took Ignis;’ hands. He pulled him to his feet, catching him when he stumbled.

“It would seem my legs don’t feel like cooperating.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t use them for more than a day,” replied Gladio, waiting for Ignis to adjust. He moved to stand beside him, hooking an arm around his waist. They slowly crossed the room to the bathroom, Ignis leaning heavily on Gladio.

“Need any help?” Gladio asked when he pushed open the door.

“I may be unsteady on my feet, but I can still urinate on my own.”

Smirking, Gladio shook his head. “I’ll wait here, then.” Leaning against the wall, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. A cold, eh? That made way more sense. He was stupid to think magic had anything to do with this. But he was still curious about the tingling. Fate seemed even less likely than an exchange of energy. Shaking his head, he sighed and continued to wait.

 

***

 

Flushing the toilet, Ignis moved to the sink and turned the water on. Leaning heavily on the porcelain, he stared at his reflection in the mirror and scowled. Even without his glasses, he could see how horrid he looked. His hair was flat and lifeless, save where dried sweat made it curl at his temples. His skin had an oily sheen, and the clothes he wore were rumpled. The fullness in his head made him woozy, he felt shaky and unbalanced, and his throat was hot and scratchy.

Ignis washed his hands and splashed water on his face. It certainly wouldn’t replace a much-needed bath, but it would work for now. Returning his gaze to his dripping reflection, Ignis sighed, bringing his fingers up to his lips. He wondered if Gladio’s experience had anything to do with his nightmare. Just recalling the dream set his heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know many times he relived the same scenario in his mind, but it destroyed him each time. It had taken so much willpower not to latch onto Gladio as soon as he woke up.

Each time in his dream, he found himself at the center of an unwinnable battle. He was the only thing standing between his companions and death, and every time he failed to save them. First, Prompto. Then Noctis. The Gladio. The pattern repeated, and he always tried to pour every particle of his curative magic into them. Sometimes he had an endless source of energy, other times he would deplete his magic quickly. It was never enough, and they would always die. Each time, more and more of his soul would be eaten away. He felt like his will to live was being stripped.

Ignis swiped his hand across his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt weak, not at all like himself. He didn’t care for it and hoped it was just his illness messing with his mind. The boys were safe. Gladio was safe. His heart was a traitor for letting these emotions hit him so hard and fast.

A quiet knock sounded on the door and Ignis quickly dried his face. He opened the door to a concerned Gladio.

“Everything okay?”

A pleasant flutter in Ignis’ stomach stopped him from answering. Instead, he nodded. He let Gladio help him back to bed, though he hated having to accept help to complete a task as simple as walking. Sick or no, he was more self-sufficient than this.

“Stop being stubborn and let me take care of you,” Gladio grumbled, leaning across Ignis to retrieve the empty water glass from the table.

Ignis huffed. “I can refill my own glass,” he replied, trying to swat his hand away.

“You’re weak as a kitten right now. You’d just drop the jug,” Gladio replied.

Sighing indignantly, Ignis leaned back against his pillow and waited for his water. He couldn’t be mad long, however. Not with that expression on Gladio’s face. Sighing again, he accepted the glass and glanced at their still-sleeping companions.

“I’m…uh, sorry.”

Ignis quirked a brow. “For?”

“I dunno…everything? Forcing my feelings on you when you weren’t 100%, mostly.”

Closing his eyes, Ignis took a sip from his glass and set it on the bedside table. “I’m hardly cognizant enough to lecture you on how idiotic you sound.”

“Ouch.”

“Honestly, you needn’t worry about such trivial things.”

“How can I not?”

Ignis pinned the man with a stare. “You’re also intent on making me embarrass myself, it would seem.”

Gladio’s brow twitched.

Keeping his voice low, Ignis told Gladio of his dreams. When he finished barring his soul, he glanced up at Gladio. The big, stoic man had one hand over his mouth, a dark blush coloring his cheeks.

“Shit,” he breathed, flopping onto his back and covering his face with his arm. “Godsdammit, Iggy. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

“Pardon?”

“Before I kissed you, I felt chilled and exhausted. When our lips touched, warmth washed over me. My exhaustion disappeared. Maybe you couldn’t do anything for me in your dream, but you did something for me in real life,” Gladio mumbled.

“So it was magic energy, after all,” Ignis replied matter-of-factly. He swallowed against a tickle in his throat and twisted to lean across Gladio. “We must have quite a connection, then.”

A chuckle rumbled Gladio’s throat. “Must be.” Reaching up, he cupped Ignis’ cheeks. He stared into the man’s tired green eyes for a heartbeat before closing the distance and kissing him gently.

“Don’t blame me should you catch my cold,” Ignis told him, pecking Gladio’s lips again after they parted. He relaxed his weight against the man’s body and stroked the hair on his chin.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. But honestly, it’d be worth it.” He ghosted his lips across Ignis’ again.

Settling down, Ignis tucked his head under Gladio’s chin and closed his eyes. “Now that my fever is gone, it’ll be a fast recovery.”

“Just don’t push it because you think you feel okay.”

Ignis scoffed against Gladio’s chest. “Now who’s the mother hen?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Despite himself, Ignis yawned. As much as he wanted to stay awake and spend time with Gladio, he was still feeling drained. As he struggled to keep his eyes open, soft snoring filled his ears. The sound caught him off guard and made him chuckle.

“You stayed awake to fuss over me, didn’t you?” Smirking, he gently patted the man’s chest. “Suppose I’ll sleep too, then.” With his fever gone and Gladio beneath him, he was sure his dreams would be nothing but pleasant this time.


	10. Bonus Chapter

Gladio was dragged from his sleep by a quiet chuckle and a cheerful laugh. Yawning widely, he cracked his eyes open. His gaze immediately locked on Ignis, who was setting plates on the table before Prompto and Noctis.

“What did I tell you?” Gladio asked, sitting up and scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“You worry too much,” Ignis scolded, standing up straight and putting his hands on his hips. “I feel perfectly fine.”

“You were unconscious with a fever yesterday! Can't you take it easy for twenty-four hours?”

“Take your own advice, big guy,” Noctis chimed in, picking up his breakfast plate. “How many times have you been so sick you couldn't even stand, yet insisted you keep training?”

“That's different,” Gladio grumbled.

“How so?”

Three sets of eyes locked on Gladio. He wrinkled up his nose, growling low in his throat. He couldn't think of a good reason.

Smiling, Ignis approached the bed. Cupping Gladio's cheek, he leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Come eat breakfast with us.”

Noctis wrinkled up his nose and Prompto cooed at the display of affection.

Pouting, Gladio dragged himself off the bed and deposited himself in a chair. “I'll eat, but you have to promise to relax today,” he grumbled.

Handing Gladio a plate, Ignis perched on the arm of his chair. Stifling a cough, he picked up his own plate. “Fine,” he sighed. “If it will appease your concern, I won't do any more today.”

Prompto and Noctis exchanged a glance, smirking into their food. Ignis wasn't capable of being idle long.

“But you'll need to keep me amused,” teased Ignis, calmly eating his food.

Prompto choked on his mouthful. “Noct! What do you say we go fish pictures, erm—take fishes—I mean take pictures. Or go fishing?” he squeaked, halfway out of his chair.

“Prompto, we're in the middle of the desert,” Noctis pointed out, eyes wide as he watched his boyfriend.

“Pictures it is, then! C'mon. Glad you're better, Ig'. Let's go, Noct.”

“Hey!”

Prompto hauled Noctis out of his chair, barely giving him time to set down his half-eaten meal.

“What the hell?” Gladio gaped, blinking at the door long after it closed behind Noctis and Prompto.

“Well, that comment worked better than I expected,” chuckled Ignis.

“You said that on purpose?”

“Of course I did. Those two are almost as clingy as you when they're worried. Saying something suggestive is a good way to get them to clear out.” Looking down at Gladio out of the corner of his eye, he smirked.

“Wait. You don't actually wa—you're still sick!”

Rolling his eyes, Ignis shook his head. “There's plenty of time for that. I just want to spend some time alone with you. During my brief moment of consciousness, I recall you saying I've spent much of our new relationship unconscious. I'd like to rectify this.” Finishing up his small portion, Ignis set to cleaning up.

Gladio stared up at the man, his mouth hanging open.

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No. I'm just...I've never seen this side of you.”

“I'm sure you'll see many different aspects of my personality over the course of this relationship. As I will yours.”

Chewing thoughtfully on his toast, Gladio watched Ignis. “Why do you sound nervous?”

Leaning on the door frame to the small kitchenette, Ignis crossed his arms. “This is the single aspect of my life I cannot control nor do I have any experience with. There are no set rules I can refer to when I'm unsure how to proceed. I know I've always wanted this—wanted you—but it's alarming how scared I am.”

Gladio could see how much effort it took Ignis to make the confession. Setting aside his food, Gladio rose to his feet and approached Ignis. Silently, he pulled the man in for an embrace, tight and reassuring. “I get it. I definitely understand where you're coming from. When you're raised to put all your care and concern into one person, it's scary when someone else comes along and you can't control your heart.”

“You're surprisingly perceptive about this.”

“Give me some credit, Ig'. There is a heart under all this muscle.”

“It's not just something you read in one of your books?” teased Ignis, tilting his head to look into the man's eyes.

“You're killin' my pride, Iggy.”

The smile that curved Ignis' lips was soft, filled with love. “Not much gets under that thick skin of yours, so I take pride in whatever can get a rise out of you.”

“I can say the same,” Gladio answered, hands sliding down to Ignis' backside. He squeezed, but it got him nothing more than a raised brow.

“I suppose showing you all my sides won't be so terrible.”

“Right. No need to be scared 'cause we're in this together. It'll be fun.” Gladio grinned when he felt a hand on his own ass. “Besides, your magic says you're stuck with me.”

“Quite true. But how we make it work is completely up to us, I would think.”

“Spending a lazy recovery day together is a good start.”

Ignis brushed his thumb across Gladio's bottom lip before kissing him. “Yes, it is.”

Gladio wouldn't mention anytime soon he felt a different tingle this time, and it was much lower than his lips.


End file.
